


Make the Walls Rattle

by HaniTrash



Series: The Only Way I'm Leaving is Dead [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Divergence, Dark Steve Rogers, Extremely Dubious Consent, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-31 06:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/pseuds/HaniTrash
Summary: Steve has been working undercover as a member of the STRIKE team headed by Rumlow in an attempt to investigate the whispered rumors of HYDRA activity and infiltration into SHIELD. The one thing he never expects to find is another supersoldier, least of all to realize his true identity as he's in the middle of fucking the anonymous man. All priorities disappear as Steve now has one mission: save Bucky, no matter the cost.





	Make the Walls Rattle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Reverend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Reverend/gifts).



> this was written for my bestie as her birthday present, because she wanted some Dark Steve from me. This was my first foray into writing that, so it's not overly dark, but Steve definitely has no reservations about killing in this! And, well for some extremely dubious consent, too... ;) 
> 
> titles for series and individual works from Shinedown songs, because I listen to far too much of them. :)
> 
> work #2 is coming at the end of July for another friend's birthday, because this is far from settled...

Steve sat in the jumpseat of the Quinjet, staring at the man across from him. _The Asset_ , Rumlow had called him. He wore a face mask and goggles molded to his face. Long brown hair hung loose and wild. His leather clothing was nothing short of tactical, concealing a multitude of weapons. His left arm was metal, a technological wonder that he knew Stark would love to get his hands on to explore and tinker with. The rest of his body was as heavily muscled as Steve’s own. The few words Steve had heard him say were deep, gravelly, muffled by the mask, and in another language that had sounded like Russian.

But that wasn’t Steve’s problem with the man.

Steve had watched in awe as the man had fought, taking out mercenaries and soldiers on a level with or even beyond Steve’s capabilities with his bare hands, not to mention the ridiculous proficiency he had with every weapon he carried.

The man was clearly enhanced, like Steve.

Steve’s problem was that he was _so fucking aroused_ by the man.

He was a killing machine, that much was clear.

He was ruthless. Cold. Relentless.

They’d fought back-to-back seamlessly, as if each was simply an extension of the other.

And Steve couldn’t easily hurt him.

Steve shifted his position, trying to will his erection away before one of the STRIKE members noticed. Thankfully, most of them were tending to their injuries and bullshitting about some nonsense at the other end of the plane.

Most of them.

The Asset seemed to take notice of Steve finally—or perhaps he’d been watching him all along, and just now raised his head to seemingly meet his eyes. Steve heated under the imagined gaze, his brain working overtime with wild scenarios in which the two of them were in a decidedly more _intimate_ situation.

Rumlow snickered at Steve’s side.

“Christ, Cap, you gonna talk to him or fuck him?”

Steve swallowed hard, trying to reign his body in. He was better than this, damn it.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Rumlow leaned in, as if speaking conspiratorily, though he never lowered his voice. “The Asset gets real worked up after a mission. Before he goes back to his...hidden rooms...we sometimes help him out with that.”

“You...what?”

“Aw, c’mon, you don’t need to keep up the act with me, Cap. An’ I bet you’d do a real good job for him. Usually it takes a few of us to wear him out, but you...” Rumlow left the sentence unfinished as he eyed Steve up and down. Steve shifted again, even more uncomfortable with where this conversation was going.

“What d’ya say, Asset? You want Cap here to fuck you when we get back to base? Or you want the usual?”

The Asset took a few deep breaths before he jutted his chin out in Steve’s direction.

“Yes. Him,” he said, in that same deep, flat tone. His head turned ever so slightly to Rumlow. “Alone?” he asked.

Rumlow laughed.

“Now how would that be fair to Cap? He doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know what you like. What if he did something wrong? Can’t let you get hurt, now can I? After all, he’s enhanced, like you.”

“Are you saying that this is a team activity?”

“Not like we haven’t all seen each other in the showers. Don’t get all prude on me now, big guy. Someone else will need to be there with you, to make sure you’re safe with him until you get to know each other better. Until he gets used to you. If anyone could handle him alone, it’d be you. But not yet.”

Steve hated the fact that the logic made sense. If Rumlow could shut up long enough for Steve to forget that he was there...Christ, what was wrong with him that he was even considering this? The Asset had agreed, although something in Steve’s gut told him it wasn’t exactly true consent on the Asset’s part. But then again, he was supposed to be winning over Rumlow, infiltrating and getting info on HYDRA for Fury...

“Just you,” he said, swallowing down the disgust he felt at what he was going to do. The Asset had chosen him, he told himself. That had to count for something. “Nobody else. You and me.”

The grin on Rumlow’s face terrified him, but he didn’t let it show.

As they exited the plane after arrival, the Asset placed himself at Steve’s side instead of Rumlow’s, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.

“Uh-oh boss, looks like Asset found himself a new girlfriend,” one of them jeered.

“Maybe we should remind him who takes care of him, huh?” suggested another.

At his words, the Asset moved half a step closer to Steve.

“Cut the shit, guys. Today is Cap’s day. It was his first mission with the Asset and he has decided he wants to learn how to properly handle the Asset in all aspects. You morons certainly can’t step in for me if needed as a leader.”

“But he’s not—” Rollins was silenced by a glare from Rumlow.

Steve sighed. Nobody had made any obvious slips or errors in front of him, all doing their best to hide the fact they were HYDRA.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to accept me overnight. Or even after just a handful of missions. You’ve been working ops together a long time before I came along. But I answer to Pierce just the same as any of you. We all have the same goals, here.” He hoped he didn’t sound too eager, too all-American poster boy.

“He _is_ one of us,” Rumlow said firmly, making it clear the conversation was over. “And you guys are done for the day. Cap and I got this.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw the Asset relax minutely. _Interesting_ , he thought to himself. Rumlow turned to walk backwards, looking between Steve and the Asset as if he knew a secret they didn’t.

“Cap, it’s your choice. You want him to leave the mask on? Or off? He doesn’t mind either way. It depends on what you want to do with him.”

Steve eyed the Asset up and down. His build was so similar, hair the same shade...with the mask on, unable to see his face, Steve could let himself imagine he was with _him_ again...

“On,” he said roughly, deciding that would be the best way for him to do this right.

Rumlow smirked, but kept whatever thought he had to himself.

“Asset. Shower and be in the room and ready when we arrive.”

The Asset looked up to Steve, who nodded, offering some sort of silent reassurance, though he wasn’t sure why. He took off down the hall while Steve and Rumlow secured the remaining weapons.

“Ready?” Steve asked quietly.

“Saves us time. He preps and lubes up while we’re showering.”

Steve’s mind happily supplied an image of the Asset’s metal arm bent behind him, fingers covered in lube, spreading his own cheeks, dipping into the tight ring of muscle...

“Oh,” he choked out, and Rumlow laughed at the flush spreading across Steve’s face.

“Cap, you been holding out on us? You a kinky bastard?”

“Brock, you should know by now the propaganda and the real thing are different.”

“So, what, you always been swinging for the home team? Was all that during the war with that woman just a show?”

Steve sighed as he stripped out of his stealth suit.

“The correct terms are that I’m bisexual with a preference for men. You happy now? Can we get on with this?”

Again, Rumlow snickered.

“Oh Cap. This is gonna be a great day.”

Steve turned away from Rumlow and stepped into the spray of the shower, washing quickly before he could start second-guessing his decision. After all, it had been a long time since he’d had sex, and he hadn’t desired anyone since waking from the ice the way he wanted the Asset. He was enough of a pent-up bastard, and the Asset looked enough like _him_ that Steve took the dubious consent of the Asset asking for Steve as good enough to go ahead and take what he wanted.

“Brock,” he called, as a question occurred to him.

“Yeah?”

“You said it usually takes a few of you to ‘wear him out,’ right? And the way he fights, the hits I saw him take, he’s enhanced, isn’t he? Like me?” Steve kept his back to Rumlow, but turned his head to study him when he answered.

“Actually, a lot like you. We were doing a sweep of an old Russian base that’d been found and he was there. Based on the files in the place, it looks like they’d gotten their hands on another version of the serum you received.”

It was clear that the answer was mostly scripted in the event Steve asked before he’d received full clearance. But there was still a ring of truth to his words, and anyone involved must have known Steve would recognize the Asset’s abilities no matter what the official story was. He was ashamed at the thrill that coursed through him with the knowledge, the confirmation of his suspicions about what the Asset could withstand.

Steve nodded.

“Thought so. ‘Kay. Need a minute then,” he said, turning his head back into the spray. He leaned forward, one arm against the wall, the water hitting the back of his head and neck, drowning out all other sounds, and began stroking his cock. It wouldn’t take long, and Steve had no interest in embarrassing himself in front of Rumlow by coming three strokes into fucking the Asset, regardless of the fact that he’d be able to keep right on going.

The image of Bucky sprang easily to the forefront of his mind, for as much as he’d been thinking about him today, how much the Asset’s build and fighting style had reminded him of the man. He remembered the last time they’d been together, just the night before that fated mission. They’d doubled up under the pretense of keeping warm, as Bucky was often cold, colder than everyone else, since Steve had rescued him from Zola’s table, and Steve ran hot thanks to the serum. Now it was Steve’s hand over Bucky’s mouth to keep _him_ quiet, roles reversed, Bucky’s legs wrapped around Steve’s waist as they rocked together, the gasping, shuddering, Bucky biting the fleshy pad of Steve’s palm, Steve biting down on his own bicep when he came again, Bucky able to take three or four from Steve before he became too sore, too tired, the breathless _I love you_ ’s whispered between them...

Steve came with a soft groan, his brain returning to the present as he opened his eyes to see the utilitarian concrete wall of the shower at the base and not the tile of his apartment. From the corner of his eye he saw the shadow of movement and remembered Rumlow and what they were about to do. But once he was started, even Brock couldn’t kill Steve’s hard-on for good until he came several more times.

“Jesus, Cap, is there anything that serum _didn’t_ make you capable of?” Rumlow asked, openly staring at Steve’s dick, still very erect and ready to go.

“Not much,” Steve muttered, angling the shower head to rinse off the wall before he cut the flow. “How far away is this room?”

“Damn, that eager, huh?”

“No, I just don’t feel like getting dressed if I don’t have to. Is this a walk in a towel sort of thing or what?”

Steve could see the shift in Rumlow, the man’s obvious reaction to the show Steve had given him and the gruff attitude he was letting slip with his guard relaxed. One thing he had to admit, trying to infiltrate HYDRA had its appeal, if only for the fact that he no longer had to keep up the pretense of being a fucking altar boy saint around other people.

“Towel’s fine,” Brock said, swallowing hard and returning his gaze to Steve’s face finally.

“I’m flattered, Brock, but not a chance.”

Brock exhaled a breath, a half-laugh, as he turned for the door and tried to hide the blush Steve had seen spreading across his cheeks.

“It’s this way,” he grumbled, and Steve followed with a smirk on his face.

The room was indeed close by, down a short hallway next to the locker rooms.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but somehow the soundproofing didn’t surprise him. A tiny bathroom was attached, with just a small shower stall, toilet, and sink. The room itself was clearly for a single purpose, as the only furnishings were the mattress on the floor, a few chairs around a small table, a mini-fridge, and a cabinet. The doors of the cabinet were unlocked, open, and the array of sex toys and objects inside it made Steve’s head spin.

“See anything you like?” Rumlow asked, as though expecting Steve to balk at the last moment.

“Yeah, what are the chances of _you_ wearing that gag so you shut up?” he asked, eyeing the large ball gag hanging from one of the pegs. From the mattress, he heard the Asset’s laugh, a sound quick and low enough that Brock wouldn’t hear it, and Steve’s smirk grew.

“I don’t need any of that,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal and making his way to the Asset’s side. Again, he noticed a slight relaxing to the set of his shoulders at Steve’s words. The Asset knelt on all fours, not looking up at them, just waiting to be mounted. His cock _was_ hard, hanging below him, fat and flushed, and for that Steve was grateful. If they’d entered the room and found the Asset not wanting, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to go through with it after all. The shine of lube was easy to see on his ass, he’d done a thorough job preparing himself.

Steve eyed the cabinet again.

“Condoms?” he asked.

“We test him regularly, he’s clean. Hell, he’s never even had a cold. I don’t think he can catch _anything_. And from what I hear, you can’t either. But if you want some, some of the guys do prefer...” Brock took a step forward and reached for a drawer.

Steve cleared his throat. Rumlow turned back to him, one eyebrow raised.

“There’s no point then. I’ll go through too many.”

Brock’s eyes momentarily widened in shock before he got control of his expression. Steve retrieved the bottle of lube from where it lay on the floor and removed his towel, draping it over the back of a chair.

“You ready for me, Asset?”

“Yes, sir.”

He settled behind the Asset and stroked his cock, coating himself with lube.

“You want me to fuck you into oblivion, Asset? Do what it takes to tire you out?”

Steve ignored the sharp intake of breath that came from Rumlow, the pheromones flooding the room from him.

“Please, sir,” the Asset gasped, trembling as Steve ran his hand down his back. He rocked backwards, trying to encourage Steve, to entice him with his ass. Steve noticed a scar, faint and small, above the Asset’s right hip and marveled again at how much his body resembled Bucky’s. If he closed his eyes, the dimensions were nearly perfect, his memory not forgetting any detail of their time together...

He thrust in, hard, groaning at the feeling of being enveloped by tight heat once again. The Asset moaned, pushed back, taking him fully.

“Christ,” Steve gasped. That was something Bucky _hadn’t_ been able to do on the first thrust, and it broke the spell.

“Don’t be greedy, Asset,” Rumlow growled. Steve held Brock’s gaze while he grabbed onto the Asset’s hips and yanked him back onto his cock.

“You need it rough, don’t you?” he soothed, even as he drove himself into the Asset. “Is that why you asked for me? These normal guys just don’t cut it, do they? Not strong enough. And you have to hold back, so you don’t hurt them, right?” Steve maintained a relentless pace as he spoke, his questions as much of an admission of his own needs as they were an observation of the Asset’s.

“Please,” the Asset begged, hands clenching tightly around the edge of the narrow mattress. “Harder.”

Steve happily obliged, relishing letting go of the fear of hurting his partner, and filing away the look on Rumlow’s face as he glared at the back of the Asset’s head. He was annoyed by something the Asset was doing, but not enough to attempt to stop or correct either of them.

The Asset was panting, pleas and moans escaping him, muffled by the mask. Steve felt like he should hate himself for how much that turned him on, but it only reminded him of the muted sounds that would come from Bucky around Steve’s hand keeping him quiet. He drove himself in harder, faster, enough that he’d have bruised anyone else, possibly broken bones on anyone else, until his orgasm tore through him and held the Asset still as he came. The Asset whimpered, rocked his hips, tried to get Steve to move as he chased his own orgasm. Steve slipped a finger in alongside his cock and with only a little work found his prostate. He kept pressure on it as he began the long, slow thrusts that would work him through his own aftermath and build toward the next.

Bucky cried out beneath him— _the Asset, not Bucky, it’s not him, I watched him fall, doesn’t matter if he likes the same thing, it’s simple biology—_ and trembled through his release.

“How many?” Steve asked, voice rough, as he tried to keep his mind in the moment and not in some fantasy.

“How many?” Rumlow parroted.

“How many does he usually need? Before he’s done?”

“Normally at least five before he’s ready to drop. That’s why...” Brock let the sentence fall unfinished.

“Why you have all the toys and it’s a group effort?”

Rumlow shrugged in response.

“Guess it’s a good thing then that you’ve got me now, huh?” Steve asked as he flipped the Asset over onto his back and bent his legs up.

“Good for you, maybe. Not so much for the guys who looked forward to this part of the mission.”

“Like you?” Steve taunted, holding Rumlow’s gaze as he drove back into the Asset. Rumlow scowled at him as the Asset groaned in obvious pleasure. “They make clubs for that kind of stuff now. Tell the guys I’ll pay for their memberships, I don’t care. If I’m on a mission involving the Asset, this is my responsibility now. Lord knows I can get the job done more effectively and efficiently than all of you.”

Steve couldn’t tell where the Asset was looking, because he was busy staring Rumlow down, but he felt the shift in his body. His legs tightened around Steve’s waist, pinning their bodies together, almost as if he was claiming Steve, trying to keep him, saying ‘mine.’ As absurd as the notion was, Steve shared the sentiment, had already become incredibly possessive of this man, and loathed the idea of sharing him with another member of the team. Especially not when they could give each other exactly what they needed.

Not when he could finally fuck someone the way he needed to.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to—!” Brock lunged forward at the Asset’s legs, a taser wand in his hand that Steve had failed to notice in the room until then.

Steve lifted his hand from the Asset’s hip and grabbed Rumlow by the throat.

“He can’t hurt me. I am doing what you asked me to, what you said needed to be done. If you don’t like the way I’m doing it, then get the fuck out of the room. Because I don’t see him doing anything here, other than enjoying being fucked.” The faintest of whimpers came from the Asset and he dropped his legs immediately.

Something clicked in Steve’s brain.

He suddenly questioned just what, exactly, the guys looked forward to doing with the Asset. Why Brock had looked so angry when Steve had asked the Asset what he wanted, when he encouraged the Asset, when he suggested the team go elsewhere for their fun.

If Steve was going to join STRIKE, join HYDRA, it’d be on his terms, damn it. He’d at least keep some shred of decency if he could. He looked down at the Asset, never letting go of Brock. The taser wand went silent. Steve deliberately took hold of one of the Asset’s legs and guided it back around his waist. The Asset fought him, tried to pull it back down, his head turning back and forth between Steve and Rumlow.

“You may not be able to do this to the others, but there’s a new set of rules with me. Because you can’t hurt me if you squeeze too tight. So I am _ordering_ you to enjoy yourself with me. It’ll certainly be a whole lot better if you do, instead of enduring...whatever it is they do to you.” Steve’s gaze flicks up to the cabinet on the opposite wall, to some of the more barbaric items he’d noticed, before he turns back to Rumlow.

“Is that understood?”

“You’re awful fucking full of yourself,” Brock forces out.

“Yeah? And who do you think Pierce is more worried about keeping happy? Me? Or you? Or _him_?” He tipped his head in the Asset’s direction. “Don’t forget who the expendable one is here, buddy.” He shoved Brock away and dropped his arms to either side of the Asset’s head, bringing his head down as he began to drive into the Asset once more.

“Just me and you,” he whispers, the noise of Rumlow crashing into the table covering any chance of him or anyone else—because Steve didn’t lie to himself about the likelihood of this room being monitored—overhearing. “As often as I can. I promise. I won’t hurt you like they do.” He thrust his hips and the Asset’s head tipped back, his legs now both firmly locked around Steve’s waist. His hands scrambled for purchase until he finally grabbed onto Steve’s arms, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, though Steve doesn’t care, doesn’t say a word. He fucks the Asset through the orgasm, drives him back over just moments later, and keeps going until Steve reaches his own climax again, biting his tongue at the last second, catching himself from calling out Bucky’s name as memories superimposed themselves seamlessly over the writhing body beneath him.

Steve paused to catch his breath, his brain in turmoil from everything he’d learned in the short time since the jet had landed. The Asset was, by necessity, not housed within the Triskelion, and though there were no insignia of any kind on any of the doors, Steve knew they were in a HYDRA installation. He needed to keep his wits about him to get out of here, and stop fantasizing about Bucky.

“Fuck, I’ve never seen anyone do that to him without help,” Rumlow rumbled, his breathing heavy. Steve glanced up, looked him over. Rumlow was painfully hard, pupils blown wide, and Steve knew it wouldn’t take much to send him over.

“That’s what happens when you let him enjoy it instead of just worrying about yourself. I feel bad for anyone you’ve slept with. Bet they were pretty disappointed. All brawn and no skill.” Steve pointedly looked down to Rumlow’s cock, which was certainly big enough to please, if used properly, but also big enough to be uncomfortable if not.

“What do you think, Asset? Should we take pity on poor Commander Rumlow? Help him out? That looks rather painful, doesn’t it?”

The Asset’s chest heaved as he caught his breath, and he turned his head to the side to see Rumlow. Steve watched him, gauging and cataloging his reactions. Finally the Asset sighed, as if resigned that Steve was going to pass him over, and glanced up to Steve before nodding and trying to get out from under him.

Steve placed a hand on his chest and the Asset stilled instantly.

“No. Roll over. And take this off,” he said, tapping at the mask covering his mouth. Steve was torn about seeing the man’s face. On the one hand, he’d like to know what he looked like. On the other hand, the anonymity allowed him to continue to fantasize that he was fucking Bucky again, that he could give Bucky the kind of pleasure he’d always wanted to since the serum had made him able to endure sex without the fear of an asthma attack.

Beneath Steve’s hand, the Asset’s accelerated heartbeat slowed. The hand holding Steve’s arm that was out of Rumlow’s sight squeezed once, as if in thanks, and Steve had to fight to keep the answering smile off his face or to not nod in acknowledgment. It was becoming apparent to him that the Asset was terrified of the STRIKE team, and for someone with the Asset’s abilities to be scared of them, he didn’t even want to begin to know what kind of conditioning and treatment he’d endured at their hands.

“C’mon,” he said, motioning Brock over.

Brock knelt at the head of the mattress. The Asset sat up, face even with Steve’s, and with his body blocking Rumlow’s view, he traced his fingers over Steve’s chest above his heart, over the serial number he’d had tattooed there earlier this year, like he did the tenth of every March because the damn serum caused the ink to fade quickly.

 _“Stevie, help me,”_ he hears, words given barely enough breath to be heard by even Steve’s ears, and then in the next instant the Asset was turned around, on his knees. He looked back over his shoulder at Steve before removing the mask and lowering his face into Rumlow’s crotch.

Steve was frozen in shock as he tried to reconcile what had just happened with the events he’d been part of seventy years prior.

“Oh, God, yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

Rumlow’s enthusiastic reaction broke Steve’s trance.

“Fuck, yes, you know what I like,” Rumlow grunted, his hand fisted in the Asset’s hair, and it was all Steve could do to keep from launching himself at the man. But he needed to move, needed to keep going, no matter what kind of screaming his brain was doing. Steve kneaded the Asset’s cheeks, spread them apart, and nuzzled right alongside his hole before he bit down, nipping all along the rim without ever actually touching it. The Asset hummed, moaned, and made all manner of sounds in response to Steve’s ministrations, and the terror built inside him every time he received the expected, _remembered_ response.

“Christ that’s hot, Jesus, Cap,” Rumlow groaned.

Steve rose up and thrust hard into the Asset, a sloppy mix of lube and come easing the way for him. The Asset fell forward into Brock, harder than was strictly necessary, and Steve had the distinct impression that the Asset had exaggerated the force of Steve’s thrust.

“Sorry,” he said, shrugging, when Brock glared at him. “Haven’t done this with another guy before. Women usually like when I do that.”

Rumlow closed his eyes, head tipped back, a constant stream of commentary running from his mouth as the Asset sucked him. Steve really wished he’d put the gag on him. Instead, he took advantage of Rumlow’s distraction to study the body between them.

He traced a finger over the scar on the Asset’s right hip. Bucky had gotten a scar there defending Steve in a fight. One of the guys had pulled a knife, and he’d gotten cut pretty deeply. Steve had tackled the guy as he’d rushed Bucky from behind, but being so small, his hit hadn’t been as effective as he’d have liked. Steve had insisted on taking care of cleaning the wound and changing the dressing himself daily, as it was his fault Bucky had gotten hurt. Steve knew the shape of that scar better than any of his own injuries...

High up on the back of his left thigh...Steve pressed his thumb over the circle there. They’d been climbing in and out of the windows all day, on and off the fire escapes during a heatwave back in the thirties, and had loosened the sill. Bucky had slipped, the wood had broken, and a nail had gone into his leg. He’d had to get shots, and the doctor said they’d been lucky that he’d landed there and missed the artery to the inside of his leg. Their mothers had given them both hell for it, saying they should have known better at their age. They were just happy the doctor hadn’t noticed or said anything about the bite marks in a very intimate location...

The large, funny-shaped, red-colored birthmark on his right calf...

The cluster of birthmarks on his right shoulder that Steve always thought looked like star...

Item after item lined up, matched perfectly, was touched, identified, acknowledged, all to make the Asset— _Bucky_?—aware that _Steve_ was aware, had heard him, recognized him, and through the mounting horror Steve needed to continue fucking the Asset as if he wasn’t inexplicably the man belonging to the identification number on Steve’s chest.

Rumlow came with a loud moan.

“Goddamn that mouth of yours should be illegal,” he said, and it took every ounce of strength Steve possessed to not punch Rumlow to a bloody pulp for what he’d been doing to Bucky for God knew how long. That was Bucky’s revenge to have. He dug his fingers into Bucky’s hips—because _somehow_ that’s who this was, and Steve needed to convince himself that he wasn’t currently raping his best friend, the love of his life, because he’d _asked_ for Steve—to keep his arm from swinging on its own anyway.

“Whassamatta, Cap, getting tired? You’re slowing down over there.”

“You were whining too much about me going too hard, so I took a breather.”

Bucky’s head hung down, but Steve saw the quick jerk of his shoulders as he stifled a laugh.

Steve needed to finish this, couldn’t let Brock get suspicious. He shifted his legs, moving them to the outside of Bucky’s, bringing them together and caging him. The Asset— _Bucky_ —dropped his shoulders to the mattress, and Steve steeled himself, reached forward, grabbed a fistful of hair, and yanked him up roughly.

“Nobody said _you_ got to relax,” he growled into Bucky’s ear, his other hand cupping his jaw and tipping his head back painfully. Steve didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath or the way his jaw clenched under Steve’s hand. He was thankful for the goggles that Bucky still wore, because if Steve had to meet those eyes right now he’d be done for, unable to maintain the ruse.

“After all, _I’m_ the one doing all the work here, right? You just need to enjoy yourself. This is for you, remember?”

“Answer him,” Rumlow barked from the chair he’d settled into.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

Again, the arm out of Rumlow’s sight squeezed Steve, this time low on his thigh, thumb skimming the scar on the inside of Steve’s knee from a bad fall out of a tree after the first time they’d kissed. It was a favorite place of Bucky’s to caress and kiss.

Steve’s breath stuttered as he moved his other hand to cup Bucky’s jaw as well, his hands overlapping over Bucky’s mouth. Bucky let out a preemptive moan—this had been his favorite position during the war. As they’d tried to find ways Bucky could keep up with Steve, and keep quiet at the same time, this had been one of the best for them both.

Bucky fell forward, bracing his arms on the bed, his back bowed, and Steve began thrusting in earnest. He knew he could hold Bucky here for a while, milking orgasm after orgasm from him, and in truth, he’d love nothing better. But more importantly than that, he wanted to get Bucky as far away from here as possible, away from HYDRA, away from all the pain.

“ _Just one,_ ” he whispered, and the words no sooner left his mouth than Bucky is coming.

“ _Maybe...for you,”_ Bucky gasped, panting around Steve’s hands, and Steve can’t help the smirk that returns to his face.

“Fuck, Cap, you really have been holding out on us. You certainly know what you’re doing.”

“I can do this all day, Rumlow. Told you I’m the one for the job.”

He drives in harder, annoyed by the man’s very existence, and Bucky comes again.

“Fuck,” Steve swore. He hadn’t meant to do that. “ _Sorry,_ ” he said, ducking his head down between them. “ _You with me, Buck?”_

“ _’Til the...end...of...the line_ ,” he answered, and Steve nearly lost his control.

Steve groaned, trying to cover, to keep Rumlow from paying attention _too_ closely.

“ _Gonna...get...you...out.”_ Whatever the situation was, whatever the events were that had led to Bucky being in Steve’s arms at this moment, one thing was clear to Steve, and that was that Bucky lived in fear.

 _“Camera...top of...cabinet,”_ Bucky said.

_“Got it.”_

“Fuck, Rumlow, if I’d known about him, I’d have joined STRIKE a long time ago. Christ this is amazing,” he said, more for Bucky’s benefit than anyone listening. He didn’t want Bucky to think he’d abandoned him to torture knowingly. But he also needed to perpetuate the image, the cover, that he was disillusioned with SHIELD, susceptible to being swayed by HYDRA.

“ _You’re_ amazing,” Brock replied.

Bucky bit down on one of Steve’s fingers, presumably in an effort to not laugh, and Steve clenched his jaw.

“I repeat: I’m flattered, but not a chance.”

Bucky trembled in his arms, and this time Steve was sure it was from contained laughter.

“Especially not now that I know _this_ is an option,” he said, snapping his hips.

Bucky groaned, falling forward, putting more weight on Steve’s arms.

“I think this is a record, Cap, not gonna lie. He looks about done already.”

“ _Hmm_ ,” Steve grunted. “Might as well do one more for good measure. What do you think, Asset? You want more?” He pulled Bucky back against his chest and reached down to grasp his cock, tugging firmly.

“Thank you, sir,” he panted.

“ _I’m sorry,”_ Steve whispered before he shoved Bucky face down into the mattress, holding him there with his hand on the back of his head.

“You _are_ greedy, aren’t you?”

Steve lifted one leg, planted his foot to the side of Bucky’s hip, and drove deep inside Bucky relentlessly, chasing his own final orgasm. Bucky was crying out, wordless screams that Steve couldn’t discern if they were pleasure or pain, but he had to keep going, couldn’t stop, had to put on a convincing show...Bucky’s metal hand ripped a large hole in the mattress where he was clenching his fists repeatedly. At last Steve came with his own shout, and collapsed over Bucky’s back, pinning him to the bed.

“ _I’m so sorry, please forgive me,”_ he managed to get out as he gasped for breath.

“Fuck,” Rumlow groaned, and Steve shifted his head slightly from where he rested it against Bucky’s shoulder blade. From the corner of his eye, he saw Brock sprawled in the chair, head and shoulders hanging over the back, hips at the front edge of the seat, as he stroked himself through the spasms of another orgasm.

“ _You okay, Bucky?”_ he asked, concern growing as Bucky remained silent.

_“Christ, Steve...that was...fuck.”_

In previous times, that was the best compliment Bucky could muster when Steve had fucked him senseless, so he didn’t bother trying to hide his relieved smile now.

“You alive there, Cap?” Brock jeered from the bathroom, where Steve could hear him washing himself off.

“Fuck I needed that. Almost eighty years is a long time. Even if I _was_ frozen for most of it.”

Beneath him, Bucky let out a small gasp.

_“I’ve got the camera. He’s all yours.”_

Steve stood, feigned stumbling, and crashed into the cabinet, knocking it over.

“Ah, shit!”

“You okay, man?”

Brock came over to where Steve knelt on the floor. He’d located and blocked the camera with his body, now haphazardly trying to collect the toys strewn across the floor, and intentionally shoving the pile all in front of him to keep the view blocked.

“Shit, I’m sorry, had a bit of head rush when I stood and my legs—”

“Here, let’s just— _ungh_!”

“You deserve so much worse than what I have the time to do to you,” Bucky growled, his metal arm locked tight around Rumlow’s neck as he pulled him back from Steve.

Steve had watched Bucky snap necks with that arm during the fight earlier that day, knew how strong and deadly that arm was. The force Bucky now uses goes beyond excessive, yet still doesn’t seem like enough to repay the man for everything he’d done to Bucky.

Rumlow’s head hung from his body by a small flap of skin as Bucky tossed him aside and stared at Steve.

Steve turned as he rose to his feet, eyed Bucky’s body, the arm, the spray of blood now coating his chest and the side of his face, and the knife he’d gotten from God knew where. Bucky pulled the goggles away slowly and their eyes finally met, and the next thing Steve knew he was kissing Bucky.

“I thought you were dead,” he choked out, pressing their foreheads together.

“I thought you were smaller,” Bucky shot back, and Steve laughed through the tears.

“I watched you fall...”

“Zola. When you rescued me in Kreischberg. I never found a way to tell you about the experiments before...” he trailed off and lifted his arm, wiggling his metal fingers between them. “Whatever he did must have affected me in a similar way as you. The Russians found me and put me on ice when they couldn’t control me. But why did the SSR freeze _you_?” he asked.

Steve laughed again. “I froze myself. Crashed a plane into the arctic not even two days after the train. Red Skull had it loaded with bombs that could’ve taken out half the world.”

“So you committed suicide?” Bucky looked furious, and it was the best sight in the world as far as Steve was concerned.

“What did I really have to live for?” he asked softly, cupping Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky sighed and traced a finger over his identification number tattooed above Steve’s heart.

“ _’Til the end of the line_...” he whispered before he shoved Steve playfully and shook a finger at him. “But I’m still kicking your ass for it later. Right now we need to get out of here before they realize we’re done and he’s dead. Where’s your shield?”

Steve’s heart seized for a moment at the flat way Bucky had said “ _we’re done_ ” and continued on like nothing had happened and as if Steve didn’t feel a hundred different kinds of dirty and guilty about it all. But like always, he swallowed it down and pushed on. Because that’s what soldiers did, right?

“Locker room.”

“Good. Let’s go. I need my gear.”

They opened the door just as a dozen men entered the double-door soundproofing airlock, armed to the teeth and decked head to toe in armor.

Bucky strode forward, grabbing the end of the closest gun pointed at him with his metal hand and bent the barrel as the soldier pulled the trigger. Steve dropped low, jamming his foot into the side of another soldier’s knee, sending him to the floor screaming in pain.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

A multitude of shots rang out as men fired at them both. Steve snapped someone’s neck, broke an arm, got his hands on a gun. It was a frenzy of spinning, punching, kicking, blocking, and shooting, and it was all over almost as quickly as it started. The two stood in the middle of a pile of bodies, barely out of breath, and now covered in blood.

“That was almost insulting, wasn’t it?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, it was,” Bucky said, stripping men of their weapons and tossing two handguns to Steve after ensuring they had full rounds. “Apparently they forgot who they’re dealing with.”

Bucky slung a rifle cross-wise over each shoulder, grabbed two more pistols, tossed a grenade into the room behind them, and started down the hallway.

Steve couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way Buck moved. Naked, covered in blood, and carrying a number of weapons, he was breathtaking for all his menace. Men rushed the hallway and Bucky took them out with ease and precision, single shots to the head or double shots to the chest, all six falling before the first had gotten more than one round off.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at Steve, just as the room exploded behind them.

“You coming or what?” he asked, eyebrows quirked in confusion.

“Yeah, just...yeah.”

Sirens and alarms began blaring, and Steve cursed.

“Guess it was too much to hope for that they wouldn’t notice, huh?”

“Yeah. They’re paranoid about me. They did their job a little too well,” he grunted as he rammed his elbow into the face of a man who came through a door at his side.

Three more came from the opposite side of the hallway with taser wands and Steve dispatched them as Bucky finished with the first man. Bucky glanced down at the men and kicked one for good measure.

“I hate those fucking things. They mess with my arm.”

They made it to the locker room, leaving a trail of agents in their wake, both still barely out of breath. Steve had exerted more effort in that room with Bucky than he did fighting their way through the hallway. Bucky covered the door as Steve quickly donned his suit and grabbed his shield.

“You still run ridiculously fast?” Bucky asked as he strapped his vest on and shoved weapons into pouches and secret compartments.

“Yeah, why? Can you, now?”

Bucky grinned, his teeth shining through the blood smearing his face.

“Not _as_ fast as you, but yeah. You ready?”

“Yeah. Looks like the STRIKE team is coming,” he said, peering around the corner.

“Oh good, a decent fight finally.”

“Glad you’re still so full of energy,” Steve muttered, mostly to himself, as he side-eyed Bucky.

“ _Steven.”_

_“James.”_

Bucky narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

“We’re talking about this later, don’t fucking think we aren’t.” He checked the pistol in his hand, swapped out the cartridge before raising it to point out the door. “We need to get to the hangar. I can fly the jet. It’s the only way to get far enough, fast enough.”

Steve followed Bucky once again—the fact that their roles had reversed not lost on him—toward the advancing STRIKE team and the extra soldiers in front of them. Bucky blocked shots with his arm while Steve used his shield to deflect them.

“They’re not shooting to kill,” he commented, smashing someone’s face with his shield.

“’Course not. They want us alive. Want me back in the chair to scramble my brain again.”

“ _желание_ _”_ someone said, and Bucky gasped.

“ _No_ ,” he whispered.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, confused.

“ _ржавый_ ”

“NO,” Bucky said, looking frantic.

“ _печь_ ”

“Stop! Steve, stop him!”

The panic in Bucky’s voice terrified Steve, and he tried to spot who was speaking while protecting Bucky, who was no longer fighting but holding his hands over his ears, crouched into a ball.

“ _рассвет_ ”

There, someone reading from a book with a red cover, not a soldier, an easy target, but behind all the other soldiers—

“ _STEVE!”_

Steve flung his shield with all his might at the man and rushed the oncoming line, jumping at the last second, vaulting over them, landing on the man as he fell to the ground, the shield embedded in his neck, lodged in his spine. He wrenched it free, spinning to check on Bucky.

Bucky was screaming, equal parts rage and desperation, as men swarmed him. Steve brought his arm around and threw the shield once more, taking out two men from the back. Rapid-fire gunshots sounded as Bucky raised his arms, a machine gun in each hand. Men fell to all sides of him as he took out their legs and when he was able to stand again, he began taking head shots without hesitation.

Steve looked behind him at the nearest plane, and then back to Bucky. The STRIKE team would be able to follow them, if they didn’t somehow kill or stop everyone attacking them.

“Bucky! Come on!”

Bucky looked in his direction, at the body he stood over, and his eyes went wide.

“The book!” he screamed, his panic still riding him.

Steve grabbed the book from where it had fallen a few feet away and hastily shoved it under the neckline of his uniform. It was awkward, but it was safe as he ran for the plane. Inside, he began flipping switches and jamming buttons as the sound of gunfire drew nearer.

“For fuck’s sake, stop before you break something. Here.” Bucky yanked a gun from a locked cage and shoved it into Steve’s chest, pushing him back to the rear of the plane. “Need to get the weapons online,” Bucky mumbled, reaching across the panel and toggling a few more switches.

Beneath Steve’s feet the plane vibrated as the engines came to life.

“Hang on to something!” Bucky cried, and Steve grabbed a cable as they lifted and Bucky spun the plane, firing at the agents from the gatling guns mounted on the front. Short range missiles destroyed the remaining Quinjets, as Steve was reminded that this wasn’t the Avengers jet but a STRIKE jet equipped with more weaponry and less comforts. The ramp closed and they shot up into the sky. It wasn’t until they broke through the clouds that Steve allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief and collapse to the floor.

“Steve? Steve!”

Now that the adrenaline of the fight was wearing off, Steve was beginning to feel every one of his injuries. He knew Bucky had taken some good hits as well, but he seemed completely unfazed by any of it. Bucky quickly pushed a few controls and rushed to his side, pressing his hand over the blood flowing from the gash on Steve’s side.

“I’ll be okay, Buck. Are you hurt?”

“Just some minor cuts and bruises. Here, lay down, lemme see.”

“It’s already healing, I swear.”

“Well it’s still fucking deep,” Bucky grunted, pouring saline over the wound as he dug through the first aid kit. “There’s no...fuck...wish my kit was in here...okay, I’m gonna staple this, ready? It needs to get closed up. Help you heal faster and you know it. How did you even get this, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed, dropping his head back. “Thought it was a gunshot. Obviously not.”

“Yeah, obviously. Okay, hold still. Here, bite this if you need it.” Bucky pulled the holster strap from his chest and held it out to him. Steve took it, though he didn’t need it. The circumstances were less than ideal, but it was nice—albeit painfully so—to have Bucky taking care of him again.

“Just like old times, huh, punk?” Bucky said, as if reading his mind.

“Something like that,” he answered with a grimace as Bucky pressed the plastic to his side and clicked the first staple in. “Fuck,” he hissed.

“Now, now, _Captain_ , such language isn’t becoming of a national icon, is it?”

“Fuck you,” he growled as Bucky applied three more staples in quick succession.

“Already did that today, didn’t you?”

If it had been anyone other than Bucky speaking, Steve probably would have punched him. Instead, he went dead still as his emotions swung from exhausted but relieved to guilt, remorse, and sadness in less than a heartbeat.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Stevie,” Bucky said quietly, going still himself.

“No, it’s okay. I deserved that.”

“No you didn’t.”

Bucky sighed and taped gauze over the wound, the silence between them now awkward as he returned to the pilot’s seat, checking readings and gauges.

“So what now? Did you have any grand plan beyond getting us out of that room?” he asked, not looking at Steve.

“Run and hide sounds pretty good.”

“Run and hide it is, then.”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder and eyed Steve.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you when we land.”

Steve let himself drift off, telling himself it was so he’d heal and be ready for anything when they landed. He knew he should probably ask where they were going, should be more concerned about a lot of things right now. But for the moment, they were safe. _Bucky_ was safe, away from HYDRA. And that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr!
> 
> <https://hanitrash.tumblr.com/>
> 
> also, check out my published stuff? pretty please?
> 
> [https://www.amazon.com/Loralynne-Summers/](https://www.amazon.com/Loralynne-Summers/e/B00RC8DGGS?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1577730376&sr=8-1)


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